


Awfully Willing

by xyourdearlybeloved



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dry Humping, Explicit Language, F/M, Masturbation in Shower, New York City
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xyourdearlybeloved/pseuds/xyourdearlybeloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven years after the defeat of Sburb, Dave finds himself in NYC, tired, alone and empty - but a knock at his door changes everything. With his old flame abruptly barreling back into his life, will he be able to resist the temptation that comes racing towards him or give into the repressed desires he's held back for so long? Though tentative and naturally cool, it becomes increasingly difficult to balance out what is and isn't him, what he wants and what he needs - but what clarifies which is which to begin with, if there was even a difference in the first place?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Texan Hotshot

He didn't remember how long it was since he'd seen her.

Or when he'd last spoken to her, for that matter.

As months flew by, Dave Strider knew it was just a matter of time until the four of them, the little group consisting of John Egderp, Rose Mackin' Lalonde, Jade Harley and himself would fall apart, and so he distanced himself at the end of Sburb, when they'd unexpectedly pulled through. He tore himself away from the only people that mattered to him because, well, wouldn't they end up estranged anyway?

But he was horrendously caught off-guard one morning several years later when he heard a timid, yet resolute knocking at the door of his apartment. He hardly ever had visitors, and hardly  _ever_  put up with this kind of shit at nine in the morning, when he usually had had merely three hours of fucking sleep. DJing was  _not_  an easy job when he took the latest shift, but hey, because of it – and his wicked spinning skills – he raked in much more money than any DJ in New York. So when he stumbled out of bed with his golden blonde hair sticking out at odd angles, blood-red boxers hanging from his slim hips (the single article of clothing clinging to his pale skin), shades askew and head pounding, he was all too ready to swing the door open and tell the pest waiting outside to fuck off.

However, when he did so – mouth opened to speak, grimace set in his features – he froze right in his tracks. His face flushed and his lips stumbled on each other, refusing to let him voice whatever he had on his mind. Countless thoughts ran through his brain about the girl standing there, his current half-naked status, the way she dressed, what she was doing there, and, in the end, his flustered mumbling amounted to a mere hello. The girl giggled, as childishly and optimistic as ever.

"Hey, Dave." With a delicate flutter of her fingers, Jade Harley greeted him, a shy smile decorating her slightly reddened cheeks. She wore a fitted, snowy dress shirt, its sleeves rolled up to her dainty elbows and its hem tucked into a light charcoal pencil skirt. Inky, strappy heels clutched at her lithe, feminine feet, revealing the colorfully painted toenails attached to them. Her silky, lengthy black hair cascaded down her back and shoulders, subtly gleaming under the light of day, as did her observing, emerald pools behind her trademark dorky glasses. Behind her, a mess of luggage resided, very nearly exploding with their vividly tinted contents.

The blonde shook his head slightly, as though the action would clear his head of what he was seeing. Jade Harley? In New York? Right at his door? Preposterous, he thought to himself, wondering if was some sort of sick illusion, a cruel trick being played by the dark subconscious he so desperately tried to lock away. But the girl, polite and waiting, quietly cleared her throat, regaining Strider's attention.

"The same pair John gave you, right? And you don't even take them off at home?" Her lips curled up into a knowing smile, showcasing those endearing buck teeth she always had. And still does. And it made Dave even more embarrassed than before. Nevertheless, he shrugged and allowed himself a swift, almost imperceptible grin before responding.

"The exact same pair." He acknowledged, raising an eyebrow as he suddenly grew aware of the bags accompanying Jade. "And no, not even here. Can't risk anyone catching a glimpse of the most dangerously ironic weapons known to man, you know. All hell would break loose with just a single blink of these unshielded bad boys. I don't know about you, but I'd like to keep the world safe for as long as possible." His smirk widened when Jade nodded understandingly, hints of laughter jostling behind her calm expression.

Dave casually jerked his head towards her bags. "Anyway, what brings you to the Big Apple? Broadway? Or celebrities?" He promptly stepped aside, allowing his guest in – but grew horribly self-conscious a second afterwards, considering retracting the offer, but it was already too late. The girl deftly managed to lift every one of her suitcases, tiptoeing inside with a thankful hum. She completely disregarded his exposed limbs, standing in his cozy living room for a moment before he closed the door and suggested she sit.

"It's a lot more complicated than that, actually." She expertly crossed her legs and leaned forward in the crimson, felt seat of the nearest couch, carefully directing her forest green gaze at her childhood friend's face so as not to embarrass him further. She didn't  _mean_  to catch him off-guard like that. If she had known he wouldn't be decent, she would have come another time, when he wasn't showing off places Jade didn't know had freckles...

"I heard from a friend that there are wonderful job opportunities here. Maybe I was hoping to catch one of them?" She laughed hollowly, hoping there was  _something_  to do here. She had come on a whim, and now that she sat down and seriously contemplated her options, there weren't that many. Not any excellent ones, anyway. "But that's only half the reason. I came here looking for an old friend, as a matter of fact."

Her eyes darted to Dave's face for a fraction of a second before slinking back to their spot on the tattered, wine colored carpet, her full set of thick, beautiful eyelashes fluttering to keep them hidden.

"Oh? And who might that be?"

The blonde crossed his arms – resisting the urge to smile again – and ambled through the room, sitting directly across her. An old coffee table rested between them, but it felt as though space could not separate them – each reacted the way they would have if they were solely inches apart.

"Oh, this really cool guy." Jade swallowed, still avoiding his stare. "He's always had this sort of passion for music and these far-fetched aspirations of becoming a New York DJ. With your current occupation, I figured you might know him? It's fairly difficult missing a Texan hotshot like him, you know, even in such a vast city like New York."

"A Texan hotshot?" Another stretch of blonde hair as his eyebrow shot up. "Interesting. But that description's pretty vague. Mind telling me some more? Why you've come for him?" They were playing coy and Dave knew it, but it was an odd experience for him – usually it was  _him_  being clever and intriguing. Never Jade. She'd always been so open and silly and childishly honest...

When had  _that_  changed?

And, taking note of her changes personality-wise, he also started to assess her physical changes. No longer was she the fidgeting, plain thirteen-year-old he'd once known – no, now her hair was sleek and gorgeous, her features petite and distinctly European (she'd grown into her dorky appearance, it seemed, and now that she filled in said traits, they weren't as geeky as he used to think they were). Her prepubescent body had flourished, giving way for the young woman she was now – she had a retained her minute waist, but gained womanly curves, graceful slopes that gradually curved into her soft-looking legs and perky breasts.

"Well, I missed him. Er – well, we all missed him. You see, he was one of our best friends. We intended on moving in together when we were all old enough, but he went back to his place and began to talk to us less and less until he finally disappeared. It was about six months 'till we stopped freaking out about it. Maybe he just didn't want to be friends with us anymore. Maybe he wanted to go his own way, you know?" Her green orbs took an a melancholy demeanor, and, for a moment, Dave thought he saw traces of oncoming tears before she blinked them away and continued.

"But that was years ago. John, Rose and I ended up going to the same high school in John's hometown and we had a great time! There were so many school dances and parties and dates to attend – it was splendid! But, as awesome as they were, they could've been better if he was there with us. He had a way of somehow...lightening the mood and making things happen. So I came hoping to see him again. Seven years is an awfully long time, don't you think?"

"It is." He said nothing more, pondering just what the girl could've meant by  _dates_  – had she gone on many during his absence? With who? Were they ever serious? What about her escorts to senior prom and homecoming and such? Who proudly held her hand after the graduation ceremony, where she most likely earned the title of Valedictorian or some shit? Who accompanied her to the after party? Who had the joy of her first kiss, her first touch, her first –

He avidly squashed the inquiry as soon as it entered his thoughts.

Now that he had an idea of what she was like in high school, well, it was certain she had all the boys drooling over her and there was no doubt in his mind that coolkids like Dave were among those dazed twerps. Perhaps even the school's best football player or the quarterback – it could have been just like one of John's cheesy, god-awful movies. But, as he discreetly inspected her agile fingers, he found no ring or band that would indicate marital ties to anyone.

Strange, he thought, because a woman like her certainly didn't lack  _that_  sort of appeal – hell, he wouldn't be surprised if she'd been proposed to before. It was expected. Who would pass up the chance to spend the rest of their lives with the ethereal, occasionally scatterbrained, admirably positive and infinitely adorkable Jade Harley? A retarded dumbass, that's who.

However, Dave dispelled the notions currently weighing down on him and waited thoughtfully for her to go on. When she didn't, he mumbled an almost unintelligible sentence, a barely worded clusterfuck that involved getting her something to drink or getting dressed or something. Even  _he_  didn't understand himself.

His guest nodded and he slothfully retreated into the bright-but-cramped kitchen in his apartment, careful in keeping his pace calm and slow so as not to let on that he was melting, that he was absolutely fucking bursting at the seams on the inside. He quickly filled a sparkling glass with water – the kind that he reserved for any sort of visit; he tended to used plastic cups when he was alone – and placed it on the coffee table on his way to his room, fumbling a bit as he stumbled out of sight.

Jade, though attempting to be a decent, courteous guest, couldn't help but stare as the blonde passed, couldn't help but sheepishly gaze at him from the corners of her eyes and wonder how his body had gotten so...toned. Every time he moved or chuckled, subtle ripples of visibly thick muscles shuddered beneath his skin, practically tempting her to touch. Faint hints of underlying strength gathered at his abdomen, indicating the existence of a six-pack, perhaps when flexed. The same bunches of nerves curled around his shoulder blades, around his slightly visible vertebrae, circled his lower back, encased his arms...

_Just like a supermodel_ , the girl blushed to herself, unable to keep her mind from wandering, from considering what Dave could have done to get that way. Surf in California? Weight train in Texas? Snowboard in Switzerland? Hike in Oregon? She didn't know, but she wanted to, despite the creeping sense of shame slithering through her veins – she had not expected to think her friend attractive. In any way whatsoever. He could be engaged for all she knew!

However, the thought did not stick to her; Dave wouldn't dare disregard his coolness in order to court a woman – there was simply no way for him to do so. For Dave, coolness was not something that could be turned on and off at will – that was a fact of life. And relationships involved being wholly and truly honest, showing who you really are, right? Dave wouldn't do such a thing. He couldn't.

Moments later, the blonde ambled back, pale, milky muscles hidden from view. He took his spot and adjusted his shades, sending a sliver of unbearable curiosity through his visitor.

"And do you plan on staying with him? If you find him, of course." A minuscule grin dabbled at the corners of his lips. It would be a pleasant discovery, knowing Jade would stay with him. Maybe with some company, his life wouldn't be so hectic and empty. Maybe, along the way, he'd be able to atone for leaving his friends hanging the way he did – starting with Jade.

"Actually, yes. If he lets me. I wouldn't want to inconvenience him in any way; he's probably had a rough night and probably didn't catch enough sleep to function properly. No way I'd ask something like that of him if he doesn't feel up to considering it, much less dealing with me." She shifted in her seat, eying Dave wondrously as he shrugged casually, easily answering her statement.

"I dunno, but I think he'd say yeah. He'd be glad to have you, if you'd wanna stay with him. His place prolly needs a woman's touch, and I don't know about you, Harley, but I think you're the most qualified for grounding a cool guy like him. Sometimes cool guys need girly flowers or home-sweet-home mats and whatnot."

The girl smiled widely. "Would that include Squiddle dolls, I wonder?"

Dave's mouth twisted into a barely contained grin. "I believe so."

And that was that.


	2. Waitress or Maid?

Over the course of a befuddling, but enjoyable week, Jade had avidly picked up on Dave's sleeping and eating habits, mentally taking note of his schedule and regarding what she made him with care. Vases of exotic flowers were scattered here and there, giving the mediocre apartment a pleasant smell, a change from the dazing scent of the occasional bottles of liquor located in the strangest of places and there was no longer a dull atmosphere, for she had sprinkled her colorful paraphernalia all across his living space.

Though Dave had offered his bed in order to keep her comfortable, Jade kindly refused, stating that as a DJ, he needed to get a good night's sleep if he wanted to succeed. And so, with her unfailing kindness, she took to the living room couch with ease, snuggling into the plump, comforting pillows that rested upon it, breathing in the faded scent of Dave's cologne each night and sighing happily. There was something about the way he smelled that brought her immense contentment, but she hadn't the slightest idea of what it was. However, she did not question it.

Soon enough, Jade learned that Dave's heaviest days were Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, when most of the crowd went to party. During the week, he did small gigs here and there, but they only took up three hours of his time – from 9 PM to midnight. It was on those days that he stuck around, helping her prepare meals, tidy up, watch scary movies on cable (Halloween was approaching and the single genre to be found on TV was horror), and join her in job hunting. Despite the few words and jokes they exchanged from time to time, there was no awkwardness between them – it was all too natural being with each other, as they had once worked together in such a manner, gathering frogs in the snow in search of one with the DNA they required.

And now, on a Saturday morning, Jade's first week had come to an end. She lay on the couch with a thoughtful expression, watching the sun grow brighter behind the cracks of the maroon colored curtains. It was ten in the morning and Dave had barely slept around four hours, so she decided to stay put to keep from disturbing his sleep. Not that it mattered what she did, of course, given that the blonde was one of the heaviest sleepers Jade had ever come across – she could probably rip through the apartment with a chainsaw and he'd still be asleep.

On second thought, she was awfully hungry.

And there was still job hunting to do...

 _I'll make breakfast and leave him a note!_ She nodded to herself approvingly, easing out of her makeshift bed.  _I should be back in time to make him lunch...it works out!_

With that, she stood and began to prepare for the day.

* * *

By the time Dave awoke, there were scrambled eggs on the table. A cup of coffee rested beside it, as did a fork and a napkin. A bundle of muffins lay on the other side, partially open so that he could grab one if he wanted to.

The rich light of the afternoon sun brazenly shone through the windows, and it would've hurt the blonde's eyes, if he wasn't wearing sunglasses. But, as usual, they were all but glued to his handsome face, never once coming off – perhaps in the shower, but he wouldn't reveal whether or not that was true. He wore a faded navy blue t-shirt and inky boxers, sleepily positioning himself on the single creaky chair in the kitchen in order to eat. He'd noticed Jade was dressed up at the moment, but didn't ask about it; he didn't want to make her think he was prying.

He ate silently.

Jade, on the other hand, munched on a chicken sandwich from some fast food joint, sitting on the couch as she daintily did, unusually careful so that her attire wasn't soiled. She wore a white dress shirt over a dark, frilly skirt that reached the middle of her thighs before blending into her black leggings, knee-high boots hugging her calves. Her lengthy onyx hair was curled, draping over her left shoulder in the same way a horse's mane hung.

Out of nowhere, she opened her mouth to speak.

"I got a job," She gushed, turning her twinkling emerald eyes towards her companion. Light danced on the edges of her glasses for a moment, almost in time with her excited giggles. "It's nothing compared to the job I had in Oregon, but it's good for starters! I got a uniform and everything, we can go whenever we want to for free, and Jake was there and –"

Dave raised an eyebrow, swiveling around abruptly.

"Jake? Jake who?"

"Yes, Jake English! We went to high school together and he works at the restaurant that just hired me. He was the one who recommended me to the boss. He's such a nice guy." She smiled, setting down her sandwich in its box. "Why? Do you know him?"

"Yeah, actually. Met him last year. Kinda reminds me of John." He shrugged, playing it off as though he couldn't care less, but, in reality, he was...well, shocked. Jake English was a charmer, that one. Able to work his way into any woman's heart, in that cheesy and charismatic manner he had. Not to mention his accent. It had women swooning left and right. And Jade said she met him in high school? Judging from her airy, bubbly demeanor, she was probably hit right in the face by Jake's suave shenanigans. Prolly dated him, too.

And Dave didn't like that thought.

"He's a really great guy! A little weird though, to be honest." Hints of a blush trickled into Jade's cheeks, unsettling Dave even more. What kind of weird? And how did Jade know about that weirdness? He didn't want know. He didn't want to.  _No_.

"Anyway, you said you worked at a restaurant?" He successfully derailed the conversation from English's prissy, gun-happy claws, and for that, he was grateful. It was more than likely the European tart had dated Jade in high school and meant to spirit her away from Dave now that he'd found her again and convince her to move in with him in his fancy penthouse apartment right in the heart of New York where he could take her to overpriced dinners and Broadway and pay for her tuition at that stupid art school she'd probably want to go to and  _he didn't want to think about it! Not at all!_

The girl shook her head slightly as she returned to the point of their talk. "Yes! Being a waitress isn't all that great, but it's better than nothing, that's for sure! I won't be able to straighten up here, though. Is that alright?" Jade cast her endearing, forest green eyes at Dave sheepishly, awaiting an answer.

"S'Alright." He shrugged, allowing himself a minute smile. "I'm actually taking a few days off. I'll clean up while you get used to your stuff, and maybe once we both have some sort of routine, we'll figure something out, yeah?"

Jade nodded eagerly, immensely glad that Dave was the way he was – so laid back and relaxed, that, at times, she felt like she was on a different planet, floating through slurries of sublime emotions, never to come back down, never to return to the pain locked away in the deepest recesses of her heart. His company was enjoyable.  _He_  was enjoyable. And Jade thought Dave was so wonderful that whenever she attempted to fathom just how admirably remarkable he was, her fluttering heart very nearly exploded in her chest. It stuttered and slowed, it pounded and quickened, forcing blood into her face in an embarrassed frenzy.

As was the case now.

The blonde's right eyebrow twitched as he processed Jade's flushed demeanor, pondering just what could be on her mind. However, he could not focus on that, because a specific image had penetrated his thoughts – Jade as a waitress. He inadvertently pictured her in pitch-black attire and a snowy apron, cheerfully asking him what he wanted for dinner, attentively scribbling down what it was he desired. But, as the seconds wore on, her clothes began to morph into a different set; the plain cloth hanging from her torso tightened, it dispersed into a heart-shaped neckline, exposing the upper part of her breasts. The clinging skirt extended outwards, transforming into a voluminous pile of tulle and lace; her apron shrunk, merely an eighth of what it once was. He could practically  _see_  her bend towards him, asking him what we wanted again, viridian pools dancing mischievously behind her round glasses, all but begging him to give in. He could almost  _touch_  the contours of her legs that had suddenly been made visible, almost grasp the plump, peachy curves peeking out from under her maid's skirt, garbed in innocent, rosy panties, but oh, God, they wouldn't be for long and –

"That sounds great."

The visual came crashing down.

Dave, too, blushed, feeling as though she could somehow peek into his brain and know he was fantasizing about her wearing a maid's outfit. A really short, obscenely sexy maid's outfit. That revealed more of her butt than he could handle. Not to mention flattered her figure. And chest. And smooth, sure-to-be supple skin.

And the idea was driving him fucking nuts.

Wisps of arousal tugged at his boxers, forming a hardening bulge beneath his boxers. His arms instinctively fled down to cover the mound, blood coursing faster in his veins as he hastily excused himself, claiming he was going to take a much needed shower. Jade did not question him, something he was eternally grateful for, and he crazily dashed to the bathroom in his bedroom, promptly locking the door behind him.

With the image of Jade freshly etched behind his eyelids, smiling and scantily-clad, he swiftly began to slip out of his clothes, letting out a small, relieved sigh once his skin was completely bare.


	3. Relief

_Shh._

The shower head gently and steadily sprayed a stream of warm, delicious water onto the tile, its soothing coos attempting to calm and cradle Dave, but he was too far off to notice. Though he was perfectly still in the middle of the two-by-four foot large space, on the inside, his body was singing, nowhere near the external motionlessness it gave off.

His golden hair was soaking wet, clinging to the fair skin of his neck and glued to his forehead. He had his shades on, and he'd contemplated taking them off for a second, but it would be too unnatural, too odd a sensation to do so. It went against the first thing his Bro had taught him, and that was:  _never take off your shades_. As time had proven, Bro was always right, so Dave went by his set of rules, even though his brother was long gone.

Water dripped down his lithe figure, draping him in a comfortable, translucent cloak, and his erection was no exception. It peeked up, just  _begging_  to be touched, to be stroked to Jade's image, Jade's creamy physique, Jade's alluring maid outfit...

It began to throb harder, so much that it was almost painful to leave alone. With a shaky sigh, the male carefully enveloped his agile fingers around the shaft, staggering as he leaned against the tile for support. The digits began to shift, working their way up as they rubbed and teased, gaining a gratuitous moan from their bearer. They gripped tighter, adding pressure to the familiar curves of Dave's member, edging faster as the seconds wore on.

In his mind, it was Jade toying with his erection, it was Jade who regarded it wondrously, pondering its uses as she innocently inspected it, applying force to random spots to see his reaction. She tugged at it with the tips of her fingers, an unexpected giggle bursting from her lips as she reached his head and took note of the precum leaking out, spreading it with her thumb, watching curiously for any change in Dave's demeanor. She then took it firmly in her hand, very slowly closing the distance between his tip and her mouth, tenderly encompassing it with her lips and –

No, Dave couldn't properly fantasize about that, not when he hadn't the slightest idea of how soft her lips were and just how they would feel on his pulsing manhood. He couldn't possibly hope to emulate the mind-blowing experience that would be, but, at this point, he didn't really care, not when he felt so  _good_  and Jade was in a maid's dress, and the girl in his head felt so fucking  _great_ , and he was fucking her harder than he ever could've imagined. He could only dream of what it would feel like inside her, how she would twist and tremble and take him in completely, but no, he didn't care, not when his hand was vigorously satiating the sexual frustration he'd denied for far too long.

He bit down on his lower lip, breath hitched in his throat while he cautiously lowered himself onto the floor, legs curled up at the knees as he desperately caressed and squeezed, unable to contain the rough croons that erupted from his chest. His soaked, flaxen hair tangled its way onto his eyes, but it didn't matter.

For once, Dave Strider fucking lost it.


	4. Bittersweet Recollections

Jade had never quite heard something like this.

The faint moans floated to her ears easily, sending shivers down her spine. Though muffled by the door, though covered by the sound of running water, they distinctly made their way into the girl's ears, creating a sense of panic within her. Her heart quickened and pounded, it thumped and slowed, allowing trickles of adrenaline into her veins, making her feel much more excited and confused than before. Goosebumps rose from the skin of her arms, of her neck, adding yet another current of electricity to her keyed-up state.

Standing outside the bathroom door, Jade Harley was speechless.

The palm of her hand was firmly pressed to her mouth in order to keep her from gasping audibly, but her breathing was shallow and swift, leaving her brain no time to react or fully think things through. The soft groans began to pump within her blood, making it thicker, sweeter, so that the scarlet substance was now borderline intoxicating, a liquid that deterred her natural impulses and had her mind reeling on a temporary high. She could not stop the sudden urge to match Dave's impassioned exhales, the abrupt desire to touch him, to see if she could elicit those noises from him with her fingers, her mouth, her  _body..._

She tautly bit down on her hand, heart stumbling in her chest as a slightly louder groan slithered into her ears. Heat began to trail down her every nerve, through her limbs, extending to places Jade had never come to contact with, because, at the moment, all she wanted to do was be the one making him writhe in pleasure and exhale intimately. She wanted to tenderly rub his shoulders, run her fingertips down his back, to take him into her hands and help him feel so much  _better_ , even if it involved more than mere strokes and caresses...

...And then a slightly louder moan stole through the door.

At this point, her mind, her muscles, her very  _soul_  shook with the pure, untainted hits of the lascivious hysteria she'd just taken and she wanted more. Every single bit of it, every last second of Dave's voiced ecstasy – every inch and plane of his being, she wanted all of it – all of  _him_. And standing outside, listening to Dave get off, well, it was maddening. Obscenely and utterly maddening.

However, the girl stumbled out of his bedroom, racing into the living room without a second thought upon hearing the return of regular shower noises, such as the rattle of shampoo bottles and the varying pitches of running water. She very nearly collapsed onto the couch, ruthlessly biting into her hand to keep from screaming. She was overwrought, bewildered and shocked and flustered, but she turned on the TV and pushed everything out of her frazzled brain in order to make it seem as though she'd been there the whole time.

Jade couldn't yet process the flood of emotions flowing through her, couldn't yet understand the unadulterated  _lust_  pricking at her frenzied heart – she didn't want to at the moment – and all she knew was that Dave had the hots in there and she wanted to do nasty things with him even when she hadn't the tiniest idea of how do illicit things properly. After all, she was no tramp!

But, with an undying pang of shame, she realized that, with her current state of mind, she wanted to be one. That way she'd know exactly how to make Dave moan when she grazed the right places, how to have him quivering in euphoria when she moved the right way. Those thoughts, however, were quickly dispelled when, with another miserable sting, she realized another thing – that she was only his guest. She was not there to seduce him, was not there to seek out a relationship with him; she was there to see him, to talk with him and catch up on the seven years they'd been apart.

She was his friend – nothing more. He had not expressed the desire to be more than that. He had not implied there was to be anything more than friendship between them. Had he?

 _No_ , Jade answered herself, paying little attention to the mindless sitcom unraveling before her eyes. She had to be courteous. Be a nice guest. Stay out of his way. Help him out whenever she could. It was the least she could do, given that Dave was housing her and didn't seem to mind in the least. Having a relationship could mess up everything they had, not to mention make things awkward if it didn't work out. Such a thing was unspeakable! And Jade would not have it.

Still, when Dave emerged from the shower and easily took a seat beside her, all Jade could do was blush and stare ahead.

* * *

"Are you feeling okay?" Dave leaned closer to where the girl sat, brows bunched together as they inspected her face. He smelled of soap and was garbed in a red t-shirt and faded jeans; his hair shone brilliantly, sticking out here and there at the back of his head. He had said nothing during the past five minutes he'd been sitting next to her, and that relieved Jade – it meant things were normal. However, she slowly inched away and nodded briskly, never once removing her gaze from the TV screen.

"Of course I'm okay, silly! Why wouldn't I be?" Her voice faltered at the end of her inquiry, so she shut her mouth and attempted to smile, which ended up in a fit of nervous chuckles.

"Your face is kinda red. Sure you don't have a fever?"

 _Jeez, he's so observant!_ Jade began to panic a little, clearing her throat as she thought of something else to say. She could feel herself grow warmer with every centimeter he moved closer, bringing back the delectable sounds he'd made while in the shower, and her heart began to pound harder and harder and –

"Sure!"

"Then what was that with your throat?" One of his eyebrows shot up and his lips were suddenly pursed, studying her a little more. "Hey, if you're coming down with something, might as well tell me now. It could get worse if we don't go to a doctor, maybe develop into something else without treatment. Besides, I wouldn't mind doing some work around here. Just say the word and we'll go."

"But I'm fine!" She persisted, crossing her arms. Was there no way around him? Surely he would cease asking if she was totally confident in her answers. So why didn't he stop? Was he onto her? Did he know that she was listening in on him? Was he trying to get her to admit it?

_Oh, goodness, he better not be._

But he stretched out a hand and tenderly pressed it to the side of Jade's face, effectively setting every hair of hers on end. She stiffened, emerald pools darting to his face as Dave gradually brought the palm of his hand to her forehead, forming a conclusion despite the girl's protests.

"You're warm." He dropped his hands, promptly getting to his feet. "Let's get you to bed."

"I'm not – I'm okay. Honestly. Just a little warm is all." She carelessly fluttered her fingers at him, motioning so that he would sit down. "It's just...I've been thinking of Sburb lately. Of what could've happened. Of what did. Of the session before we...scratched it. There are still some things I remember that did happen, even though they didn't occur in this timeline..." She trailed off, wondering where the heck she was going with this lie.

Well, half-truth – she did, in fact, recall events that technically didn't happen, things that her friends did not remember. She knew certain conversations by heart, certain kisses and confessions – she knew that John had once kissed Rose back to life, and she knew that, though she hadn't mean it, she had caused Alpha Dave's death. She didn't  _want_  to remember his abruptly delicate body, once it had been penetrated by hundreds of bullets from her own rifle, nearly motionless beneath her as she sobbed uncontrollably, begging him to forgive her - but she did.

And, of course, it was then, while he was dying, that he spoke to her so sweetly, so calmly that Jade had begun to wonder if he was really hurt. He began to tell her of a high school hotshot that fell in love with the class nerd, much to his surprise. It was an ironic kind of love, he said, and it was even more ironic that his story sounded an awful lot like one of John's sappy movies, seeing as Dave would  _never_ get around to watching one. However, the irony kept going – Dave claimed it was the ultimate ironic occurrence, not because of the fact that it was probably something out of a sucky movie, but because it was true – it was something he was experiencing.  _And the highest_ _echelons of irony_ , he had murmured,  _ironically contain the utmost amount of sincerity._

And then he'd died.

"You still remember some of that?" Dave's voice had softened, as though he knew exactly what Jade was referring to. He could very nearly taste the blood on his lips now, as he, too, plunged into the darkest ends of his memory, where those retched, yet beautiful flashbacks resided. He remembered falling into the blackest pits of despair – it was death, and he knew it, for nothing had ever felt so frigid and bleak – but a pair of smooth, embracing lips brought him back. He could perfectly recall the tears spilling from Jade's eyes as he gradually came to, came  _back_ , and he could hardly get enough of them, nor her flushed, blood-covered mouth. He'd leaned forward, uncaring of what had just transpired, focusing solely on the fact that he was alive and he loved her and he wanted to touch her lips again and again and again.

And, in retrospect, he'd almost attacked her – but she hadn't objected. No, she'd accepted him, she'd clung to him and kissed him back, she hadn't minded when they began to roll around in the snow, feverishly nipping at each other's lips, desperately clutching at each other's arms, shoulders, neck, holding on as though they were the last things on Earth to grab onto.

Jade remembered that, too.

"I do." She nodded thoughtfully, pondering where all that passion of his went. Or rather, where it had come from. Dave had always been cool and aloof, never exerting too much of himself – perhaps because there was nothing  _to_  exert – but that day, it came out of nowhere.

 _Had he felt so fervently before? If so, how was he able to contain such emotions? How could he have been so detached when that kind of fire was burning within him?_  The inquiries bounced around in Jade's head, providing more of a mystery than an answer. She shook her head slightly, sensing the flush on her face dissipate. That day had been wonderful, yes, but she could not think of it without a tinge of bittersweet sadness gnawing at her heart, without guilt or remorse.

"Ah."

"Yes. But if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready. I have to work too, you know!"

With that, Dave took his leave, remaining in his room until he heard the door creak shut. He had the feeling that he wouldn't be able to sleep soundly that night, given everything that was on his mind. Recollections of Sburb hardly brought good dreams, and took an insane amount of alcohol to shove them back into their place – where Dave could not willingly access them.

When he ambled out of his room, he made a beeline for the kitchen, and, in no time at all, he was taking reckless swigs from a bottle of Scotch.


	5. But

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake is horrendously OOC in this. Why? Because one of my headcanons is that he grows up to be suave and pimp-like. From what we've seen in Homestuck, he seems to be a little flirtatious (i.e: *double pistols and a wink*) and effortlessly suggests things of a...naughty nature when speaking to all three of his friends. So, in my head, he becomes increasingly conscious of the fact that he is not only charismatic in this way, but also attractive, something that boosts his confidence in extraordinary ways. By the time he's out of high school, he's got an almost slick demeanor, as he's now used to his undeniable charm.

" _Hey, Jake...can I talk to you for a sec?"_

" _Why, of course." He smiled, turning his attention to her._

_It was always an occasion when Jake English smiled, Jade knew, because it was not the superficial kind. When he grinned, it spread throughout his face, so that his viridian pools crinkled up at the corners behind his glasses, so that deep-set dimples bent into his cheeks, and his whole demeanor was beaming. Then again, Jake was always smiling, so was it really an occasion now?_

" _I'd like to ask you for advice...concerning this guy." The girl blushed a bit, motioning towards an empty booth for privacy; they were getting a fifteen minute break and Jade did not want to waste a second._

" _Guy trouble?" A suggestive tone entered her coworker's voice, working its way into a familiar chuckle. "Strange, because you, of all people, should have no problem whatsoever with catching one." He winked. "Is that the case? Nabbing one?"_

" _Partly. You see, I'm staying with him for a while, and –"_

" _Jesus fucking Christ, Harley, you're already living with him? I don't see what the problem is then; it's only a matter of time until he goes batshit insane. We poor men have little to no restraint when it comes to living with women."_

" _But he hasn't expressed the desire to do anything...of a lustful nature with me. We haven't so much as kissed." There was defeat in her words. Should she give up?_

" _And how long have you been living with him, exactly?"_

" _Just a week."_

"Just _a week? That's nearly a year on a man's watch! And you say you haven't even kissed?"_

_Jade nodded._

" _What the devil fucking dickens is wrong with him? I've never met a man who could hold out that long. Not a single one! Naturally, the woman in question would be completely ravaged by the third day. Take my word for it. It's_ always _the third day." He leaned back into his seat, looking at her with a matter-of-factly expression._

" _Maybe...he just doesn't like me?"_

" _If we're talking about a living, breathing, heterosexual man, then he's bound to like you, Harley. No exceptions."_

Duffel bag in hand, Jade quietly let out a hopeless sigh, waiting for the elevator to come to a stop. She had changed back into her regular clothes, consisting of skinny jeans, boots, and a thin, peridot sweater, with her curled hair was pulled up into a poofy chignon. She could not bring herself to push aside her conversation with Jake; even now, his words echoed in her ear, planting seeds of doubt in her mind.

" _Unless you have a past with him, I don't see why not."_

" _But I do!"_

" _Oh? Then that's your answer. He just might regard you as a little sister, or a best friend – chaste and untouchable. Either you snap him out of that train of thought or you go along with it. Simple as that."_

" _And how would I put a stop to that?" She had grown anxious, edging forward in her seat as she awaited his answer._

" _Easy." He stared at her with a raised eyebrow, as if his response was the most obvious in the world. "You tempt him."_

Oh, she could not do it.

Not even in her wildest dreams could she be tempting, could she? She could not be seductive or provoking or even remotely alluring! How could she captivate Dave – Dave, of all guys! Dave, who easily brushed off the unwanted affections of most of the female populace – who was more than likely the heartthrob of the  _city_. Of New York City itself! There was no possible way she could simply tempt him, was there?

 _Goodness, no,_  Jade huffed to herself, inwardly ashamed that she, one of Dave's closest friends, was seeking ways to seduce him. Seduce him! When had she become so crude? So lustful? When had she begun to think of him...as sexually attractive? She tried to remember a time when she had not thought him handsome or sexy or visually appealing, but the more she attempted, the harder it got. Had she always considered him good-looking? Had he always been charming and delightful and stunning and –

The doors dinged open.

She jumped, shaking her head as she exited into the hallway, taking the familiar path to Dave's apartment. The usual living noises of others flooded into her ears, ranging from soap operas on TV to the washing of dishes; distant cries echoed down the hall for a moment, indicating the presence of a baby, but the mewls were faint, barely registering in Jade's brain as she walked to the last door on the left.

" _And how do I do that?"_

 _She was desperate and she knew it, but what was she going to do? Not only did she love Dave, but she_ wanted _him. More than anything or anyone she'd ever wanted._

" _Jade." He came forward, staring at her as though she didn't know her left from her right. "It doesn't – shouldn't, sorry – take too much. Sexy lingerie. Suggestive movies. Get him some of the hardest liquor on the fucking planet. He wouldn't mind anything if he's drunk, you know."_

Needy as she may be, Jade didn't want to get Dave drunk – it was utterly unethical! He could hurt himself, he could tear his apartment apart, and those were things she didn't want to cause. Besides, wasn't it considered rape if he wasn't in his right mind while she...reeled him in?

_I can't do it._

Her fingers fumbled with the keys, chest heaving as she sighed in defeat. What kind of person was she, trying to have sex with one of her best friends? Not an honorable one, that was for sure. And what if he refused her? What if he had no plans concerning her and intercourse? What if he  _didn't_  feel the same way she did?

The questions painfully needled back and forth in her head, but when the door swung open, they froze and vanished. The sharp, numbing scent of alcohol climbed into her nostrils, making her nose wrinkle and twitch; the TV blared in front of the red couch with Dave sprawled across it, a layer of pink headily sprinkled across his cheeks.

It seemed he was already inebriated.

Half a bottle of whiskey rested on the coffee table in front of him, and he periodically took sloppy sips from it, reaching about a third gulp until he noticed Jade's presence. With a choked giggle, he raised a hand and waved mid-swash, nearly losing grip of the canteen in his other; his sunglasses were somewhat skewed to the side, revealing the luscious pair of eyelashes adorning his right eye, but the displacement was not enough to catch glimpses of his mysterious – silly, in this case – gaze.

"Evening, Harley," He slurred, his giddy smile never once wavering as he caught sight of the girl's befuddled demeanor. She dropped her bag and merely stared for a few seconds, wondering just what he doing and why. "Somethin' wrong? Everythin' well at work? C'mon, talk to me, Harley. Hello?"

He elongated the last query drastically, sounding much more childish in the sing-songy voice he asked it in. He was infinitely more careless now, Jade noted, watching as he sat up, with a little trouble. He no longer oozed of his usually frigid coolness, of his friendly, yet distanced detachment; instead, amiability rolled off of his heated skin in unadulterated waves, and though it would have put countless females at ease, Jade was not fazed by it. She thoughtfully chewed on her bottom lip, both ashamed and excited, panicked and grateful, a merciless blush prodding at her face. Was this not what she had wanted? Had she not contemplated getting him drunk?

_Then what are you waiting for?_

It was not her mind, but Jake's voice pushing her forward, daring her to go with what she wanted. It was so close, wasn't it? Just a simple brush of her lips against Dave's and he'd do the rest, in his current state. He wouldn't mind. Hell, he'd gladly take the reins and show her how it was done, teach her exactly what to do and where to touch.  _Then why wasn't she doing anything?_

"Dave! It's barely nine and you're already drunk." She stated last phrase stonily, tone indicating she was not amused, but the redness of her face said otherwise. Her fingers twitched slightly, just  _aching_  to slid down his cheeks and knot themselves in his hair; her breathing hitched at random times while her heart crazily pounded away in her chest. "Is there any particular reason as to why that is?"

"None whatsoever." The blonde shook his head, raising the bottle to his lips. "Want some? It's the best liquor I've had in – oh, fuck." In his drunken rambling, he'd dropped the container, watching morosely as the fiery liquid spilled onto the carpet. He didn't seem to react for a few seconds, merely staring with a disappointed expression before he realized his precious Scotch was going to waste. "Goddamn it, I don't have any more of that and the carpet – oh, the carpet's gonna smell so wonderfully in the morning and – Jade, we need to – need to pick it up before –"

"Leave it." Jade sighed, inching closer to the couch. Most of the alcohol had seeped out, leaving only a single stream dripping out of the glass that wasn't even worth saving. Dave, too, exhaled heavily and cast a sad glance towards his roommate of sorts, but a smile wormed its way onto his pale mouth in no time at all.

"So how was work today?"

"Okay." The girl picked up her bag and set it down next to Dave, prying her hair from its voluminous arrangement shortly afterwards. She dumped the clips on the coffee table as she pulled them out of her curls, curious as to why Dave suddenly didn't care about his spilled drink or the soiled rug. "The customers weren't too harsh and Jake gave me some tips on how to come off as more friendly."

But, as laid-back as he had abruptly become, his nose wrinkled in distaste at the sound of Jake's name, striking a sense of undying wonder in his guest. "I don't like him," he declared, wobbling up to stand. He carefully tiptoed over to Jade, blood never once dissipating from his rosy visage as he murmured, "Lemme help with that."

Dave's breath was warm and welcoming on her skin, and though she could easily pick up on the stench of whiskey in it, she didn't object. His surprisingly nimble fingers deftly cornered one bobby pin after another, removing them in such a gentle manner that Jade could barely feel them sliding out of her hair. The clips  _clinked_  as they fell onto the coffee table, and when her locks hung freely again, she uttered a small 'thank you' before turning to face him.

"Dave, let's get you to bed." She pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes, hoping he'd be alright if she put him in his room. There was a significantly smaller amount of things he could hurt himself with, but that didn't rule out the possibility of him choking on vomit in his sleep, or tripping and hitting his head on the furniture, or –

"But I don't wanna go to bed."

His voice was softer, closer than Jade had thought it would be, and when her eyelids fluttered open, a swift gasp lingered on her lips. He was standing no more than a few inches away, a silly grin adorning his face and his hands tucked into his pockets. He was Dave, but wasn't – yes, his golden tresses draped down his forehead and the freckles on his face were in the same spontaneous pattern as they'd always been, but he wasn't so guarded now, wasn't as cautious; the glee was evident on his features, as evident and clear as day. He was smiling – something he rarely did.

_Where did all this come from?_

"I'm serious, Dave." She broke through her unexpected daze, gulping audibly as she raised her emerald pools to his, hardly visible behind his sunglasses. "In this state, you could get hurt. Call me a worry-wart, but I really don't want anything to –"

_Ahh._

"– happen to you, seeing as how –"

_Mm._

"– you're one of the best people I've ever met and –"

She couldn't hold out any longer.

No, not when Dave was pressing his mouth to hers as she spoke, rendering her brain useless and turning her words into gibberish. She couldn't breathe, couldn't function, not when Dave's hands were on either side of her face, tugging her closer and closer to him and it still wasn't enough. No, it wasn't nearly enough being tightly pressed to his chest, she wanted more than the savory tang of Dave's tongue hungrily melding in with hers, wanted so much more than mere kisses and caresses and shaky exhales.

And, almost as though he could sense her desperation, Dave let his hands wander, let them swing down to her waist and clutch at her frame, as if pressing to each other hard enough would make them whole. He cupped her face with one hand and eagerly lifted her sweater with the other, sending shivers down Jade's spine as his cool fingers came into contact with her heated skin. She made no objection to his touch, gingerly biting down on his bottom lip when he reached the cup of her bra, tantalizingly tugging at it, but never once moving it. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, fingertips lingering at the edge of the garment, doing nothing but toying and pulling.

Jade, however, unexpectedly gripped his hand and pressed it to her breast, sighing graciously the second he caught on. He squeezed lightly and moaned into her lips, entangling his free fingers into her inky ringlets and grinning momentarily when she did the same. He dexterously worked his agile digits beneath her bra, heart stumbling in his chest for a split second as his hand slowly grazed the bare skin of her bosom, kneading and exploring. He was no longer in control of his actions, and when his arms slid from her hair and guided one of her legs up towards his hips, he did nothing to stop it.

They gasped breathlessly and sunk into each other's arms effortlessly, Dave wrapping the girl's other leg around himself in order to carry her into his bedroom. It was dark in said room, but when the blonde stepped into the blackness, he didn't care; all he needed was to  _feel_  her with him, hear her inhale sharply and groan in pleasure, wanted to make her feel  _right_.

He placed her down near the edge of his bed and climbed atop her (lithe muscles still curled around his waist), frenziedly nipping at her mouth, her neck, working his way down her collarbone and –

They abruptly rolled over into a different position, one in which Jade was straddling him, hands resting on his shoulders as she bent down to kiss him. Their bodies moved to their own accord, hips rolling into each other thoughtlessly, gaining speed and force with every second that ticked by. Jade whimpered with every thrust, pressing herself harder to Dave's pelvis as he took hold of her waist and maneuvered their movements easily, exhaling roughly as well. Her head was swimming with lust and excitement and the sweet, fervent aroma of alcohol in the air, making them lose their senses and their minds.

She didn't want to tear her lips away from Dave's, especially not when they enveloped hers so perfectly, so tenderly, almost as if they'd been made for each other. She moaned, wishing there was no cloth between them, nothing stopping them from indulging in their lascivious desires and nothing weighing in the back of her mind while Dave's hands slithered up her top again. This time, though, they did not go straight for her breasts; instead, they circled around for the goddamned clip that lay on her back, fumbling as they tried to undo it.

It was such a simple clasp, yet so vexing in the dark, and so the girl reached back and undid it for him, returning to his impassioned embrace once more and  _what was she doing?_

Jade could feel reality catching up to her in the back of her brain, but no, she wanted it to last longer, this heated, inexplicable event that she'd never thought would happen, but there she was, legs on either side of Strider, with the crease between her thighs firmly pressed to his, rubbing and sliding, so very, very close to making love, and  _he's drunk, he's not thinking clearly; get off him before you do anything stupid because he has to rest and you're getting your hopes up way too high, Harley!_

– but the fleeting strokes and hysterical, wonderful pinpricks of Dave's teeth yearningly digging into her neck would not let her rationalize with herself, nor could the warm, trembling hands carefully lifting up her sweater, or the endearing gaze capturing her half-lidded pools behind their dark refuge. She was so awfully malleable in his hands, so delicate and  _free_  and she didn't want him to stop, no, didn't want him to quit slipping her sweater off, along with her beige undergarment, didn't want his cool digits to stop prodding and grabbing at the naked skin of her chest or her waist. Not even if she tried with every scrap of might within her could she remove herself from his touch, from his spidery fingers as they worked the front of her jeans, tugging them down in mere instants.

With a few pulls and swift moves, the pair of pants was discarded, recklessly tossed into the dark without a second thought. Dave began to edge out of his shirt, and as he did so, Jade couldn't help but run her fingers up his abdomen, attempting to memorize the solid plains and thick grooves of his torso, but she didn't do that for long; without her acquiescence, her fingertips trailed down to his jeans, unzipping them and pushing them down to his ankles, her knees bending as she crouched up for a split-second to fully remove them from his person. Only a thin sheet of cloth rested between them, the crimson linen of Dave's now-strained boxers and the suave, peridot panties that clung to Jade's hips, but they kept going, kept sliding and groaning, to the point where the girl could very nearly  _touch_  the hardness underneath Dave's boxers, through the moistened fabric of both their remaining attire, pondering what exactly it would be like  _inside..._

"Dave," Jade croaked, unanticipatedly clear-minded the second the blonde reached for her panties, hands forcing his arms down before even she knew what was going on. "You're drunk. Stop."

It pained her to verbalize the brooding thoughts buried in the back of her mind, but it was true – he  _was_  drunk; his judgment was clouded by the alluring buzz of alcohol in his veins and it was bypassing any natural defense of his that kept him from impulsively doing whatever the hell he felt like doing. They were pretty much naked, for fuck's sake, and though Jade very much wanted to go on with their horny, haphazard shenanigans, she  _couldn't_ , not when he was in a state where he couldn't decide for himself.

And, vapid as she thought it was, Jade wanted him to...well, want to, too. Agree. To willingly climb into bed with her without being coerced or bribed or inebriated. In the dazed stupor he was in now, how could he ever willingly agree to something like that? It was more than likely that he was just going along with her. He'd probably never anticipated it'd get any more heated than a simple make-out session...

"Jade, I – it's not like that, I really do – it's not –"

Dave never stuttered, and yet there he was, searching for the right words to say, the phrases that would perfectly detail his emotions and his explain his actions, but they eluded him. In the low light, all Jade could catch of his appearance was the subtle glint of his shades, covering his enigmatic eyes even now. Though dizzy with whiskey, it seemed he was a mystery regardless of his sobriety; he was a carefully constructed shell, one that didn't break under pressure – or, at least, that's what the girl had come to think – but now that she removed herself from him, fingers cutting through the blackness as they sought her discarded clothes, the same husky, almost broken tone Jade had used not milliseconds earlier infiltrated his voice.

"Jade."

"Dave." She replied simply, utilizing every fiber of being to keep from running into his arms and picking up where they left off. It was unruly of them. It was unethical on her part, but she could not bring herself to regret it. It was wrong, yes, but her blood was singing, begging for a chance to return the blonde's side. She couldn't let him see that, could she? Not when he was like this, a tad disoriented and nowhere near the Strider he usually was.

"Get some rest."

It killed her and she knew it killed him, too, but what could she do?

"I'll see you in the morning."

_But, but, but, but, but, but, but._

How negative.

But what else was there to contemplate?

"Goodnight."

With her clothes in hand, Jade slipped out of the shut and noiselessly shut the door behind her.


	6. To Break the Spell

It was on nights like these that Dave felt the most vulnerable. It was times like these, when sizzling trails of alcohol buzzed through his veins, vehemently fighting back the memories he tried so hard to suppress. It was then, when his mind was a drunken jumble running amok within him, that his blood was boiling but his body was freezing, when his face felt hot and his brain was cold, but that didn't stop the searing poison from pounding in his blazing heart.

It was a strange process, sleeping after taking so many gulps of whiskey, because, as when he was awake, he could hardly put a stop to whatever slithered into his head and wriggled into his thoughts. However, while dreaming, it was much more unbearable; the Scotch wormed into his subconscious and let all hell run loose, bringing back those painful events with a flood of despair. His sleep was overwhelmed by images of blood, of death, of everything he could've had and everything he'd lost during – and because of – Sburb.

Dave's skin was heated to the touch, but he couldn't get enough of the blankets curling around his body, almost as if he was hopelessly ill. Drops of sweat beaded on his forehead beneath his golden hair, clinging to the tendrils in a moist, uncomfortable sheet. He was having a nightmare – as he always did when sleeping off his alcohol-induced stupor – but this time, the dreaded scenes were different. Yes, he could see the bloodbath taking place right before his shielded eyes, and yes, he knew from the tremors that emanated from his chest that his friends were either dead or on the verge of dying, but there was hope; he knew from the restless fluttering of his heart and the courage prodding him forward that there was something  _better_  this time, something that alleviated the bursts of pain ailing him. Who or what it was, he did not know, but as he carelessly meandered through the bloodstained battlefield, wincing at every corpse he came across, this newfound faith did not falter.

_He knew from the cerulean cloth edging into sight from the corners of his eyes that Egbert had fallen. Thick, ruby liquid spotted it mercilessly, and though the urge to peek at its origin was hardly bearable, he did not look. The sound of clashing swords bled into his ears, as did the deep rumbling of thunder and the faint shudders of an automatic rifle going off; they withered away one by one, and when it came to the shrill screams of a young girl, his skin began to crawl. He knew who it was immediately – how could he not when his heart nearly ripped itself apart at the shriek? But this drive, this optimistic pull did not come to an end. It willed him onward, to Jade, to his beloved friend, even though he knew it had been her agonized wails infiltrating his mind._

_His feet dragged on, past the lifeless carapaces, beyond the bruised and bloodied friends that had once aided him, and he walked so far that he'd begun to wonder if he was going in circles. It all looked the same to him, the marred, checkered floor and the twitching, dying bodies, anywhere and everywhere he turned. There were times when he thought he caught a glimpse of Jack's shadow looming over him, but when he gathered enough bravery to whirl around and check, there was nothing there._

_As he cautiously ambled on, he came to the realization that the sudden dread that filled him was not because of Jack – no, he honestly did not care for his safety at this point; what did frighten him, however, was the thought of finding Jade dead beneath his feet, and though the hope burned in his veins, he knew it was inevitable, discovering her beautiful carcass; he had heard her cries, abruptly cut short by the same rifle she'd once wielded._

_Ironic._

_But Dave couldn't relish it, not when it was Jade who had suffered, not when it was she who had fallen at the hands of her own weapon. The alternating tiles beneath his quickening feet began to blur, and the blonde started to wonder where that bud of faith had gone – or rather, why it had not gone. It still curled around his limbs and forced him onward, despite the fact that all his friends were dead. It nudged him forward, making him disregard his unruly, foreboding background and mindlessly tear through the field. Yes, he was going in circles, but he didn't care, not when he had to find her, not when he had to try and bring her back, regardless of his safety or his emotional distress._

_The day she brought him back was so distant now, a fading memory crammed in the back of his mind, stuffed behind everything he put in order to keep it from returning. And now, as he approached Jade's crumpled, broken body, all he could to to stop the oncoming deluge of tears was kneel down and hold her hand, checking for any form of pulse, any sign that indicated she was still alive. Her chest rose and fell weakly, beneath her glittering, pitch-black gown, an evening dress almost torn to shreds by the countless bullet holes piercing it, along with her scarlet-glazed ivory skin. Her glasses were sliding down the bridge of her nose, and her lips – oh, her lips! – were stained by the drops of blood steadily leaking out of the corner of her mouth._

" _Dave." She uttered weakly, bringing her shattered emerald gaze to his. A smile tugged at the tips of her mouth at the sight of him, twitching as she spoke. "It's okay, Dave. I'll be okay." She was trying to get him to stop worrying and he knew it – just as he did that fateful night, when it was him lying in her place, assuring Jade he was fine – but he also knew it was not true. She was not going to be okay, no matter how hard they wished it or how quickly she was saved. Her breathing was already shallow, a sign that she hadn't much time left, and Dave gripped at her hand harder, droplets gathering at the corners of his eyes._

_He couldn't take it, watching her suffer like that, and when he frenziedly crushed his lips to hers, she didn't object, merely letting him in, responding with whatever specks of strength she had left. It was an awkward moment, especially when her chest stopped rising altogether; regardless, Dave did not resign himself. He clutched at her face from either side, pressing himself more and more to her lips, nipping, sighing, hoping she could come back promptly and return his affection, waiting for the time her eyelids would flutter open and she'd be perfectly fine._

_But the seconds passed and there was no reaction, no jump-start of her heart or relieved giggles erupting from her mouth. He kissed harder, growing desperate with every motion and movement, knotting his fingers in her flowing, inky hair, uncaring of the fact that she no longer lived. It was his duty to revive her, no matter what the cost – even if it meant smooching on her corpse or dying in the process or facing off Jack but why wasn't she doing anything? There was not a sign of her reawakening; she merely lay limply on the ground, just as dead as she had been thirty seconds prior._

_And Dave wouldn't believe it, no, he dove and bent and brushed and pursed, but the girl would not move. No kiss of his could break this ever-lasting sleeping spell, each bestowed in vain, but he tried, despite the searing pain. His resolve did not falter; he kissed her until her limbs were cold, until flaring, salty tears streaked down his cheeks and choked sobs burst from his bloodied lips._

It was a recurring dream, a wicked scene fabricated by the back of his mind, seemingly stuck on repeat as the blonde slept, plaguing him to no end. He woke in between skips, gasping and trashing underneath the blankets in utter shock. Crimson droplets oozed from his bottom lip from where he'd bitten it, and when he tasted it, all he could do was freeze and recall the nightmare, groaning in bitter agony as the images wandered back. He needed to make sure Jade was alright, that nothing in his subconscious was remotely correct, that there was  _nothing_  that could hurt her as long as she was right beside him!

But, alas, every time he blindly reached out through the pitch-blackness, cutting through the dark with nearly unbearable anxiety, his aching fingertips met nothing but the empty covers that clung to his bed.


	7. Still

The day was still young when Dave awoke for the last time from his disturbing dreams, daylight already burning through the cracks of his curtains. A delectable scent wafted into his nostrils when he sat up, sifting through the accursedly heated blankets for a shirt and a pair of jeans. His head was an agonized mess, throbbing painfully to the beat of his heart, hurting more when his shades slid down the bridge of his nose and exposed his eyes to the blinding light.

In all honesty, he was thoroughly disappointed when he realized he was in bed alone; after enduring what he had been prisoner of all night, he half expected Jade to be there for once, to alleviate the muddled pricks of confusion that plagued him. That, if only for one time, he could extend an arm and realize she was sleeping right beside him – that she was alright. But, after last night's fiasco slothfully dribbled back to mind, Dave knew she had every right to keep away from him.

Regardless, his heart thumped harder in his chest and breathing failed him for a second or two when he recalled the feeling of Jade's body, nearly completely bare against his, rocking and gasping and tender and  _needy_. Oh, how he  _needed_  it – how he needed _her_. For so long, he had stiffened with pure hesitation whenever he considered chasing after her affection, and now that the possibility was within reach, he couldn't dare grasp it. Not when he was sober. Not when he could still  _think_. It was an inhibition, thinking, when it came to Dave's emotions – when he could still stop himself.

The blonde sighed noiselessly and easily slipped into whatever cloth his fingers came into contact with, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead of him – no, the  _weeks_  ahead. Judging from Jade's reaction last night, she wasn't all too happy with Dave's lapse in control, and that  _definitely_  made for an awkward morning. Or couple days. Or months, maybe. But what else was Dave to do? Without the aid of something alcoholic, there was no way he would be able to confess to her. He was too rational, too aloof for his own sake to let himself trip up and fall victim to rejection. Maybe if he didn't contemplate as much or cautiously plan everything out, he'd finally be able to get those feelings out in the open without the need for liquor.

He yawned groggily and stretched out his arms, standing erect for the first time since he'd collapsed into bed last night, and it felt nice. If, of course, he wasn't counting the horrendous hangover he was suffering. If he was, it was a pretty shitty feeling. Nevertheless, he stepped into a pair of sneakers and readjusted his shades, ran his fingers through his hair, and rapidly slipped into the bathroom to make sure everything was in check, brushing his teeth vigorously in order to rid himself of the repulsive morning taste in his mouth, which was even worse when mixed with the aftertaste of Scotch.

As he headed for the door, the sight of his guitar caught his eye, and he sighed. He briefly considered playing something for her to break the ice, but it would be much too sappy. It would be a blatant display of his emotions, and after last night, he wasn't all too sure about  _hers_. So he'd play it cool for now. If possible.

Dave tried not to think too much when he swung the door open and stepped into the living room.

* * *

Now, while Dave had tossed and turned for hours on end, Jade had slept fitfully. Granted, it took a while for the spontaneous bursts of heat to work their way out of her system, but overall, it was a good night. Her dreams, unlike her roommate's, were directly linked to her innermost desires and fantasies, and so her night was flooded by hopes of passionate exchanges, most of which took place when both she and Dave were sober. Of course, she had also dreamt of what would have happened if she had not intervened last night, but that was a different story entirely.

This morning, however, she was careful with her mood and behavior. Jade was determined to make things work, if Dave allowed her stay, and try to be the least amount of awkward as possible. She had awoken at nine, swiftly slipping into sweats and a lavender hoodie, quick in preparing the first meal of the day. Her deft fingers had managed to whip up homemade pancake batter in no time, knowingly pouring the mix into a pan while she sliced potatoes into slightly thick slices, pieces that she planned to cook into hash browns. Her nimble hands periodically slipped, allowing the thin knife to etch ruby slivers into the tips of her fingers, but she didn't mind; they would be gone by tomorrow.

Only the heavens knew how much she longed to knock on Dave's door, inviting him out into the kitchen as she cooked and hummed merrily to herself, perhaps even going to far as to encouraging him to help her, and she refrained from doing so. It was pushing him – walking right into the jaws of rejection and expecting him to return her feelings.

Jade wanted to believe he did.

His thoughts of her, however, were things she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Nevertheless, the girl filled a glass of milk and placed it on the table, consequently gathering the rest of the meal and organizing it on two plates, one with larger rations. The butter was already out. The syrup was a go. The knives and forks – on either side of both plates. Perfect.

So by the time Dave stumbled out of his room and entered the kitchen with his eyes glued to the floor, he was speechless when he looked up. Not only was he impressed by the thoroughness of the breakfast Jade made for him, but he was also a tad shocked by the beaming of her features. There was a layer of rosy dust sprinkled across her cheeks and her emerald pools shone with a fierce hope that nearly tore his heart to countless bits. Her sleek black hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, loose strands curling around her face and neck.

Was it the light, or was she even lovelier than she had been yesterday?

Dave didn't know what it was, but she was...happy. Or, at least, she looked like it.

"What's this?" He asked, barely keeping his voice in check. Incredulity threatened to seep into his tone, something he wasn't all too used to. He sat down hesitantly, facade set in place, but the aroma floating into his nostrils was absolutely mouthwatering. The blonde tenderly poked his fork into the crispy delicacy at the corner of the dish, slowly popping it into his mouth.

"Just thought I'd fix you up something nice. You know, as a thank you for letting me stay here. And a change from the eggs we eat every day." Jade wrinkled her nose, grinning as she processing the change in Dave's expression, watching it as it warped from aloof to awestruck.

 _He must like the hash browns_ , she concluded, feeling her chest swell with pride as her friend eagerly devoured the rest. After a minute or two of giggling at him for eating so quickly, she finally decided to eat as well, shivers zipping down her spine all the while. He liked them! This was a good sign. And, judging from the way he didn't pause when it came to the pancakes, she knew he loved those, too.

"There's no reason to thank me." He managed between chewing and swallowing, gazing at her through his sunglasses, grateful that she could not see him watching her. Yes, it was something about her attire. The way she looked all at-home-y and casual. Like it was just another morning, when it really wasn't; any other morning, she'd be in jeans and a nice blouse or in a skirt and sweater. Had she nowhere to go, then? Was that the only reason she was tending to him so attentively?

 _Get yourself together_ , Dave internally hissed at himself, somehow managing to keep his mouth from twitching in frustration and confusion. The food was delicious but his thoughts were vile, poisoning every notion that flitted past his mind. Even though he was able to keep his brain from straying back to last night's little mistake (according to Jade; Dave would have gone along with it, had she not torn herself away from him), it continued to weigh at his heart, constantly ruining whatever pleasant ideas he had.

"There's always a reason to thank someone." She added, a small smile tugging at the edges of her lips. "Even if they're not aware of it." There was something heavier burning behind her forest green eyes but she made no effort to speak of it, daintily downing her breakfast before starting on the dishes, leaving Dave nothing to go on. It was odd, this sort of behavior, especially after what happened last night. Typically, they ate eggs off disposable plates and gushed – well,  _she_  did – about their dreams or plans or just talked in general. This was nearly…normal. Something that might occur anywhere else to another couple in another city.

Already he knew this day would be different.

* * *

In a matter of hours, the blonde was sprawled on the couch, paying little attention to the heart-wrenching sob story on TV. Typically, he and Jade hung around in the living room for a while before getting down to whatever business awaiting them. Clearly, this was not the case today. The girl had taken off before Dave could even properly settle into the couch, claiming she had some sort of errand to run.

Right.

Strider found that hard to believe. No doubt she'd gone to gossip with that douchebag Jake about what happened last night to get advice. Of course, he'd probably end up suggesting she could try seducing him as practice for the real thing, and Dave knew how  _that'd_  turn out. Jade, all innocent and inexperienced, would accept. Jake, being the shameless cad he was, would take things farther than a simple 'practice' session and rub it in Dave's face for the rest of eternity. Jade would then fall hard for the British island boy, date him for a couple months, get brutally dumped, and come back crying back to the former Knight of Time. He'd resist her womanly charms, but in the end, he wouldn't be able to stand a chance against her quivering pink mouth and tortured emerald frown.

What a stressful fiasco he was in for.

 _What the fuck are you thinking?_  A voice abruptly piped up in the back of his mind, snapping his train of thought from that horrid path it was going down. What  _was_  he thinking? Jade would never do that. She wasn't  _that_  naïve. She'd probably just gone out for groceries or a new skirt for work. Hell, maybe not even for work. Maybe she just wanted some alone time? Girls did that, right? Took unexpected shopping trips to clear their heads? Or spontaneously went to the nail salon for mani-pedis? That was something Jade would do…right?

_What the fuck are you talking about? Jade isn't some dime-a-dozen bimbo. No way she'd skip over to the mall for an impromptu session with her manicurist and get her hair done by a middle aged woman from New Jersey with a hairstyle so huge, she'd beat out nearly any beauty pageant contestant in Texas. No way. That's not Jade._

Taking this into consideration, it was much more feasible that she'd gone to speak with Jake, and that was something he  _didn't_  want to think about. Knowing his habit of getting ahead of things…well, it wouldn't quite make his day contemplating the possibilities. Especially not with that audacious, insufferable prick out and ready to pounce.

No way, fucker. Not in a million years.

And, now that he thought of it – regretfully so – he realized that if he wanted to capture Jade's heart, he'd have to move fast. He wasn't the only guy around – New York was full of attractive, Broadway star pretty boys and seductive hard-rock celebrities. Not to mention Jake English: former high school heartthrob and heartbreaker. Dave had to decide, and quick; given the fact that Jade worked with that European twit, he only had so much time until he swooped in and swept her off her feet.

Had he the courage to decisively pursue her? Could he finally choose whether or not he could bear putting everything at risk in order to receive some sort of answer? The inquiry was killing him with each second that ticked by and his heart was stuttering in his chest impatiently, awaiting an answer that had the power to break him beyond repair. Was it rejection he was truly afraid of? Or was it the idea of commitment? Previous relationships he'd been in had never once been serious – not much consideration had to be put in. Just inconsequential flings, lasting no more than a month or two. Was this why he hesitated with Jade? Because he'd yet to experience a lasting, stable relationship? Because he was stepping on unexplored terrain by requesting romantic ties with someone he actually cared for?

Dave sighed and tried to quell his hitched breathing, consulting the erratic pounding emanating from his chest. He could not figure out what it was that held him back, but he decided to ignore it for the time being; at the moment, there was thing he wanted to know and one thing only – was he ready to seriously pursue Jade?

Still, time passed and the clock ticked on, befuddled head hung low.

Still, each instant bled into the next and yet he did not know.


	8. And Then

Dave had honestly not expected this.

Then again, what  _had_  he been expecting? Jake? Jake? Jake screwing Jade?

 _Well_ …it was a possibility.

He had, in all honesty, not foreseen the flip side – the chance that maybe Jade left to run some errands. Pick up stuff from the grocery store. Casually converse with one of the billion old cat ladies on the block. He hadn't thought that, perhaps, she'd gone out for supplies in order to cook a nice lunch for him, a thoughtfully prepared meal they would eat as they had that morning.

Now that Jade was back with countless different vegetables, spices, and who knows what, Dave felt horrible. How could he doubt her like that? Of  _course_  she wouldn't go visit Jake. She probably didn't even know where he lived. Most likely didn't have his phone number, either. What was he thinking? Or was he thinking at all? Was it possible that he was…jealous?  _Jealous_?  _The_  Dave Strider, jealous?

No.  _No_. A cool kid like  _him_? Jealous?

He was well aware that sometimes fate pulled funny twists and such, but the notion was considerably amusing. Only insecure people were jealous. Psychotic, possessive girlfriends and boyfriends were jealous. Siblings were jealous. Friends were jealous. Never cool kids. Jealousy stemmed from the fear of losing a close friend or lover to someone else. In his case, Dave couldn't be jealous; how on Earth was it feasible, knowing Jade wasn't his to begin with?

Besides, she and Jake were just friends. Old friends. Possibly old best friends. But that didn't matter now, right? They were more mature now. They'd mellowed out. Even if there had been something significant between them, time had most likely smoothened it out of them, leaving nothing but fond memories and brief smiles when recalling the aforementioned thoughts. No true feelings. No romantic ones. Dave had nothing to worry about.

So when, at the end of an unusually long and grueling hour, Jade finally allowed Dave into the kitchen, he felt ashamed. Embarrassed. He felt absurdly guilty knowing he'd thought of countless scenarios in which she ran off with the European prick when she was really buying ingredients to make him a lovely, thought-out lunch.

To make him Cajun shrimp and linguini with creamy parmesan sauce, to be exact.

He awkwardly stepped into the kitchen, hints of an oncoming blush sticking to his warming cheeks. He refused to acknowledge his embarrassment or shame and successfully kept his mouth clamped into a nondescript line. Cool. Cool. He had to keep it  _cool_. No need to lose it. No need to blurt out senseless apologies. Jade didn't even know he had been questioning her whereabouts, so why did he feel the urge to mindlessly admit each and every nasty thought that had flitted through his brain while she was gone?

Not to mention the  _other_  nasty thoughts.

The ones that wouldn't involve English in a million years. The ones that were ironically sacred in their salaciousness (those being fantasies in which all barriers were down and there was nothing to hide, both physically and emotionally). The ones that began right where last night left off…

"Hungry?" Jade interrupted the blonde's thought process before it could get out of hand. Dave looked up and blinked slowly, fighting the fluttering of his heart for dominance—for the control of his limbs. His eyes flashed behind their dark refuge, glittering so fervently Jade would've caught wind of it, had she not turned to place a bottle of wine on the table.

Utensils clinked left and right, as did the wine glasses while she set them down, but Dave didn't speak or move – he hardly breathed – because his brain was too busy processing, computing, doing some weird, shocked blinking thing that momentarily disabled his ability to function. His mind was reeling and his body was utterly motionless, drowning in an ever-lasting torrent of shame and joy and bliss and relief – not to mention pride.

Pride because Jade had cooked such a wonderful meal. Because she was great in every way possible, and he was grateful for having such an amazing friend. Er. Crush. Friend. Person. Jade. She was astonishing. She lacked nothing. She was courteous, efficient in the culinary arts, bubbly and adorable and overall a very fun person to be around. And she'd made an excellent meal. For him. For Dave.  _For Dave_.

It was too much for his brain to handle.

"I – sure." The words stumbled out of his mouth before he could filter them out, effectively earning a broad smile from Jade. He sat down silently, unsure of what to say or think; he didn't know if his brain was broken because of Jade, the amazing scent of the food, the fact that they'd nearly gone all the way last night, or all three. Regardless, he grabbed the fork neatly placed on the right side of his dish and cautiously twirled it into the linguini, placing in his mouth shortly thereafter.

"Holy fuck." His eyebrows shot up as he eagerly went in for another mouthful, tacking on some shrimp to accompany the pasta. They had been boiled to perfection, these flimsy, savory strands, but their gentleness was topped off by the cream sauce, a wonderful concoction that tied the whole thing together. It blended each taste into the next impeccably, from the Cajun seasoning to the bits of cilantro floating around the plate. "This is really good."

The girl giggled and settled into the seat next to him, blushing behind her large spectacles as she brought a glass of wine to her lips. "Thanks! I thought you'd like it." She let her eyes wander towards Dave, hoping to catch a glimpse of that familiar, yet so foreign, enigmatic gaze of his, wishing he was just a little careless for once, maybe a tad thoughtless, and perhaps dropped his shades or lost them, or broke them…

Maybe then she'd be able to fully express her gratitude towards him, or her affection, or her emotions…and get something in return. Something other than some obscure grin or monotonous response. Some life. A reaction.  _Something_. Maybe even like what she'd gotten last night…

_Jade Harley! Don't even go there!_

She stopped, choking on her wine a little as she banished such thoughts from her head. What was she thinking? This was supposed to be a nice day with nice meals and nice conversations. A  _nice_ day. Not a raunchy one. Not a steamy, salacious day full of hot Dave and eager Jade getting it on in his room, or on the couch or on the kitchen table…

The girl looked down, face reddening at the notion of them doing  _it_  on the table, right where they were eating, flushed limbs sliding and slipping exactly where their plates lay. She frantically set down her glass and stood up, nearly bringing her untouched food with her. A sudden fire coursed through her veins, prompting her to do something she had planned for  _much_  later, where there wouldn't be enough time to thoroughly think things through or seriously contemplate them but –

"Jade, is something wrong?" The blonde wondered aloud, hints of laughter tainting his cool tone. He was a few feet away somehow, sitting down a little farther than Jade had expected. Had she moved? Had she panicked a tad more than she believed she did? But with a quick glance at the floor, she knew she was in the living room, standing no more than a foot from one of the couches. What was going on?

"No, nothing. Just a little jumpy. Must've been the wine, I guess?" She fibbed, but her lie was transparent. Why was she slipping up like this? Why was there so much adrenaline, so much energy oozing through her body this way, forcing her to act in such a bizarre manner?

Dave's lithe footsteps thudded in her direction, very nearly pushing her already nervous brain over the edge. His voice was soft now. "You sure?"

"Yeah." More lying. More childish, transparent lying. When was this weird feeling gonna go away? When were her muscles going to quit almost visibly shaking and give her back her control over them?

"Alright. C'mon, we gotta –"

"Hey, Dave?"

It was too late to stop. Too late to take her words back, too late to keep this moment from going to utter and total waste. She peeked out of the corners of her eyes and watched him turn back, slim lips lightly pressed into a small smile and abruptly realized how much she desired those lips. How much she adored gazing at them, especially as they opened to speak to her. To let that somehow coarse and melodious voice ring out and form beautiful, relaxed words with them.

"Yeah?" He inquired, brows furrowing together as she absorbed Jade's expression. She looked anxious and sick, with an almost unhealthy looking blush, as it burned a vicious scarlet from hairline to chin, seemingly growing stronger the more he observed it. "Sure there's nothing –?"

She couldn't restrain herself.

With a shaky inhale, she took hold of Dave's shirt and tiptoed the highest she could, closing her eyes and pressing her mouth to his. His lips were tender, malleable, just as they had been last night (with the exception of their utmost confidence) and Jade could not help herself, could not control the unexpected urges that pulled her on dangling, invisible puppet strings. She could feel her blood pouring into each and every scrap of skin touching Dave, rushing to her head and her face and her fingers so that she was feverish and careless.

Jade couldn't stop herself from curling a hand around his neck and pulling him closer, despite the fact that he had not yet reacted. As he had not already pushed her away, rejection was no longer an option, and it was because of this that she recklessly breathed in his scent and kissed just a bit harder, exhaled just a little faster, and felt just a tad better, knowing he did not completely cast her aside.

Yet.

She knew that separation was inevitable, but she continued kissing him, hoping to make the best of it before he totally lost it and kicked her out of his apartment. It was her last chance to convey her feelings, and yet it did not feel potentially disastrous – didn't feel like a precarious situation.

It wasn't until Dave began to gently kiss her back, of course, that it started to seem like a suicide mission. He softly accepted her familiar form, unthinkingly clamping down on the curves of her waist with his right hand and cupping her supple, youthful cheek with his left. He exhaled audibly and tugged her closer, heart thrumming faster as she came into contact with his chest; she was so sleek and breakable, somehow both sturdy and delicate.

Adrenaline exploded through their bodies, producing a thick, impenetrable haze in their minds, making it harder and harder for them to think or breathe – the only thing they could do, the single action they  _would_  do, was gratuitously melt into the other's arm and smile madly after each affectionate peck or impassioned embrace.

* * *

It was nice, cuddling.

It wasn't quite something either adult had ever really gotten to do, so the act was a tad strange at first, but both were awfully willing to acclimate to the proximity of the other's body heat. They nestled into each other's arms in front of the TV, unwashed plates forgotten on the coffee table before them, spreading the scent of Cajun seasoning and shrimp throughout the living room.

Some sappy movie was playing on TV, but neither cared; they were too busy toying with each other's fingers or ruffling the other's hair or kissing. Mostly kissing. Which was everything they'd been doing for approximately three hours – since Jade started it. They giggled (well, Jade did) and talked as though they'd first met, speaking about absurd and odd topics they'd never spoken about, but it was great. It was excellent.

There were, however, chores to do and dinner to eat, and so, at the end of that tear-jerking chick flick, Jade stood, unwillingly letting go of Dave's warm, agile fingers and strolling into the kitchen, inky hair bouncing with glee in her messy ponytail. She was ecstatic, all but bursting with joy, knowing Dave liked her back. That he kissed her back. That he hadn't recoiled and broken her heart.

It was perfect.

"I'll start on dinner." She smiled and began to sift through the cupboards for ingredients and pans to suit her ever-changing taste, a rosy tint blanketing her pale face. The sun had already set outside, leaving a trail of a pallid coral and fading peach on the horizon – further bettering the day for Jade. She was curious to see what Dave would do once it was night, once it was time to sleep (or not) and prepare for the next day. Would he invite her to sleep with him? Or rather, to  _sleep_  with him? That simple inquiry was maddening, and it both excited and unsettled the girl.

What would it be like?

She had, however, no time to fully explore the situation her mind had fabricated. As she selected a specific pot, a knock erupted from the front door, each thud indolent and leisurely. Not only did the presence startle her, but it eliminated any unruly notion from her brain for the time being – how could she properly attend to a guest with intercourse in mind? Intercourse with Dave, no less?

She couldn't.

And so she got right to work, leaving the blonde to answer the door to gather her bearings. Dave, on the other hand, lethargically rose from the couch, flexing his arms behind his back in an attempt to wake himself up, to make himself more attentive and pleasant to speak to – if the latter was even possible. With how his afternoon had gone, he didn't think there was anything that could ever bring him down from this brilliant high, this beautiful intoxication. He felt better than he'd ever felt before – how could he  _not_  be pleasant right now?

And then, of course, he ambled to the door and swung it open, a diminutive grin curled at the edges of his usually stoic lips, countenance practically glowing the happiness he'd been carrying all afternoon…

…and then that smile rapidly faded away. That beaming of his gradually came to a stop, leaving him shocked and irritated and insecure. His joy became inward frustration, but he would not let it show, because it would make those fucking emerald eyes burn brighter with ungodly satisfaction, and that was something Dave would not permit. Hell, he wouldn't allow  _anything_  that made those goddamned viridian pools glimmer or dance, even if it was the sun itself. How he hated them and the smugness they exuded, and he would not let them take note of how much they irked him.

Because there, standing in the hallway with the biggest fucking smile Dave had even seen on a person, wearing spiffy black trousers and a freshly pressed dress shirt (going so far as to wear a fucking tie, goddamn it) was Jake English. His hair was casually slicked back, making staring into his piercing green stare an unavoidable event – because, yes, it was always an event when Jake English was around, wasn't it? A fucking disastrous event, that was for sure.

"Well, hello there, Strider. Long time no see." English's smirk grew larger.

And then Dave, with his gaze nearly singeing holes through his precious Ben Stiller shades, stood there thinking one thing and one thing only:

_...fuck my life._


	9. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's back...back again.
> 
> Shady's back.
> 
> Tell a friend.

 

 

There was a pause—

A brief, distinct pause that wickedly amused Jake English as he stood, expectantly and unexpectedly, at the door. His taunting, glimmering gaze brightened from a soulful emerald to a mischievous peridot at the exact moment he realized he had front row seats to the _101 Ways to Piss of Dave Strider_ show—and boy, that was only the _beginning_.

Grin growing wider, the younger of the two utterly relished Dave’s fleeting moment of absolute confusion, a shocked befuddlement quickly marred by a spectacular array of drastic—and, if Jake was being brutally honest, _hilarious_ —facial expressions.

Disbelief. Annoyance. Irritation.

And, if Jake was being particularly observant, he thought he could pinpoint a hint of resentment, perhaps?

The idea sent shivers of excitement down his back; frigid slivers of what he believed was destiny boldly licked each and every bone of his spine, leaving a delectable trial of warmth their wake—it further fueled the intrusive, but deliciously satisfying, plan he had hatched merely three hours ago. A plan that, without the touch of fate, would never have come to fruition—a plan that Jake intended to carry out dutifully and seamlessly, for the sole purpose of his dear friend Jade to get one thing and one thing only:

Laid.

Or, at least, he preferred to call it fate. He didn’t really know what it was that urged him onward towards Jade’s life and attempting to fix it for her, but he accepted the feat without question—and if it meant figuring out a way to get Dave to jump her bones, then so be it. Call it karmic justice or some fucked up way of atoning for his past misdeeds, but Jake was jumping onboard this hectic ship and would lead it to safety, even if it meant he would sail it alone.

And so, with only that self-sacrificing and selfless plan in mind, Jake English smothered the absurdly smug sneer from his smooth, porcelain features, and gently cleared his throat in hopes of snapping Dave out of his reverie—a pause that, for the frustrated blonde before him, lasted more like a lifetime than a few seconds.

Because really.

What the _fuck_?

Was it some sort of cosmic conspiracy devised by a cruel god in order to keep Dave blue balled for as long as humanly possible? Or was this a sick joke collectively concocted by a committee of cackling extraterrestrials for the sake of a faraway planet’s amusement? It seemed all too convenient that _just_ as Dave was finally about to get the girl of his dreams—fulfill a sweet and burning desire he’d had for _way_ too many fucking years—was crashing down before it could ever happen!

It was unfair, it was unlucky, but most of all, it was undoubtedly _infuriating_ that, of all divine messengers to prevent him from making sweet love to (what could possibly be) the love of his life, it had to be _Jake_.

Jake _had_ to be the one to fuck things up.

It couldn’t have been _anyone_ else, could it?

But, in retrospect, Dave was somehow awkwardly grateful, in some confusing, convoluted way, that it was at least someone they knew—someone he was already close to harboring hatred for. Say it had been a complete stranger—what then? What if it had been some poor guy that would eventually have to deal with the wrath of Dave Strider? What if it was someone from Jade’s past, their history unknown to Dave? What if it had been a psychotic ex-boyfriend, having stalked Jade to his apartment, willing to do anything and everything to get his lovely, goofy, brilliant, dreamy girlfriend back and force her into a life of misery and captivity with him?

Dave was not having the best time with this riveting game of _what if_ currently taking place within his frazzled, shell-shocked mind, but at least he could draw comfort from one thing:

None of the horrendous scenarios he had imagined could ever possibly take place, due to the sharply dressed (damn you) and disturbingly fresh smelling (really?) European tart not only three feet away.

Which was better, honestly, because at least he knew what to expect from English—he knew all the tricks in Jake’s suave seduction book and could effectively stop any of his crude techniques if need be. And, if he was being truthful to himself, tonight would probably constitute of him thwarting many, many, many of those pesky charms.

But, with a resigned sigh, Dave gathered what was left of his composure and plastered his million dollar poker face to his lips as though it was the most natural gesture in the world (in this situation, it most definitely was _not_ feeling very natural). With a quick inspection of Jake’s posture, he assumed there was a hidden shock element involved (come on, it was _Jake,_ he probably carried chocolates, condoms, and flowers around in hopes of always being ready for a good lay), and rolled his eyes inconspicuously behind his trademark shades.

Jake cleared his throat, and Dave cleared his, vaguely resembling a pair of wolves struggling for dominance, and asked nonchalantly, “English. What are you doing here?”

It took a second for the aforementioned to respond (apparently he deemed it absolutely necessary to flash Dave a sensual half smile and chuckle before saying anything) but ultimately opened his silky mouth to claim, “I thought a reunion was in order,” while gazing steadily at Jade.

This, of course, roughly translated to _I’ve come to be a douchebag and make you jealous, of course_ , in Strider-speak, but the blonde easily shrugged off the bullshit excuse and stepped aside wordlessly.

When English confidently strode in, confirming Dave’s suspicions of the involvement of flowers, the latter allowed himself a brief moment of victory.

 _This_ was definitely better.


End file.
